Beast, Beauty, Between
by Hanlea
Summary: My own fantasy, alternate world retelling of the story, in which I apply my unique, hopefully not too odd interpretation to the classic plot and characters.
1. Allason's Prolouge

Disclaimer: I am now disclaiming.

AN: Ah, I've actually completed a chapter. If the shock doesn't kill me I may live to write another, and this might turn into a fanfiction. If that does indeed happen, this not-yet-a-fanfiction will be mostly inspired from Robin Mckinley's _Beauty _(But this isnot a fanfiction based upon that story, because I know that's not allowed), but probably with some Disney in there somewhere. The setting is some sort of alternative fantasy type of universe, which will hopefully reveal itself to the reader over time without a full dull history having to be spewed out. This version…will not be typical. I don't say this to brag (Look, I'm original!) but because I want to warn possible weirded-outers. Now read on:

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Chapter 1: Allason's Prologue

_Something is amiss_.

Of course, Allason could not be sure of her memories from so many years ago, but the path had always seemed so clear and well marked, nearly impossible to lose. Even the dumbest of drivers could find the way, and hers was not a dunce, so far she could see. Perhaps there was a plot forming…there was a feeling of it in the air…Allason closed her eyes, and she could almost smell it in the soil and hear it in the rustling trees – deceit. But whose? Her servants, those in her company? It seemed a likely plot; a young girl of noble birth, descendent of an Old family, tricked and kidnapped, sold into unfriendly hands to be ransomed or worse. Maybe they were only playing at being lost, and they weren't planning to take her home at all. Maybe any second now they'd pull over, shoot her and take pictures for the paper. She'd heard of similar things happening before. But no, that wasn't it. Then what? The whole of the woods seemed to echo with an underlying ache. Restrained…imprisoned…

She shook her head impatiently, her logical, preparatory school sanity returning to her. The word for this was paranoia. She reached into her silken bag and pulled out a number puzzle to play with. It didn't calm her nerves as she had hoped. Hours passed, no path was found, and the feelings of tension seemed only to increase with every second.

Things were too strange…something unnatural was coursing through the air, like a foreign disease that the woods could not expel. _Work on your puzzle, Lady Allason, there you are…_5, 6, and 7 in a row…on to the next set…

"I am very sorry my lady. If we cannot find our way soon we will have to rest for the night."

"What? Yes…I suppose so…" 1, 3, 5, evens and odds…why weren't the trees blowing in the wind…

_Relax, little Allason, and you will be home soon_.

"I will be home soon." Allason echoed. 8, 6, 4….

"I hope so, Lady Bird," The servant replied.

"There aren't any."

"Hmm….?"

_Shh…little girl, hush, and play your game. _

The leaves weren't falling normally….each one glittered in the sun just the right way…when the horses walked, they kicked up no dust…

"What's going on…?"

_Nothing my dear._

"Nothing my dear."

No twigs littered the ground…no weeds….

"Nothing?"

_Nothing, you wretched little girl, nothing!_

With a click, the last numbered tile was fitted into place, and Allason's eyes fluttered open with sudden clarity to a strange sight…the castle. There it was. They had found it.

_There there, see, no reason to worry. _

No reason indeed.

The house looked remarkable. Very well kept, every detail like Allason remembered. An eerie feeling of comfort surrounded her, fond memories flooding a bit too quickly into her mind. She held her head as she stepped out of the carriage, her brain suddenly jolting from the strangeness of the soil under her feet. She worried. But suddenly her worries flew away, as a beautiful voice called sadly to her.

"Welcome, my dear Miss Allason, to Freer Castle. I am afraid you will not find your home exactly as you left it."

What a lovely woman! There, framed in the glimmering gates, a white gown floating upon her frame. She was tall and thin-figured, with beautiful, soft blonde hair, pure white skin, and perfectly molded features. And she was glowing! White-yellow light flowed from her head…The Newers would have called her an Angel, but Allason knew better – she was a Maga!

"He..hello.." She whispered hesitantly, intimidated by this fantastic image. The Maga approached her and wrapped her in cool, airy embrace – she smelled very sweet. Surely nothing so pretty could exist in the world.

"My name is Galia, I'm a Magamistress from Kenon," She looked down on Allason and stroked her check. "But you knew that…didn't you?"

Allason nodded.

"You're a smart girl. And _I_ know you are Allason Bird, come from Terrian school in Ula Kingdom Capitol City, to live at home again." The lady sighed and took her hand, leading her towards the castle doors. "There is much to say."

The halls had never been so pristine, Allason noted. Everything did seem to sparkle more in Galia's presence. Gorgeous Galia walked so elegantly, with her head held proudly up, golden locks flowing down her back. It was impossible not to gaze up at her as they strolled and talked of the castle's goings on.

"You may have noticed, my dear, but the castle has been enchanted. It's quiet a sad tale, but I have high hopes for the future, and you needn't worry about a thing."

Ah, a spell, that made sense then. Galia must have cast it…everything was all right then…except…

"Lady Maga, my…is my brother here? I was told he was still residing at Freer."

"I was afraid you would ask, my love. Of course you were eager to meet him. I must regretfully tell you…he is no longer with us."

Allason hung her head, but nodded, accepting.

"I know you must feel sad, it is perfectly natural. You should let yourself grieve, my child." She patted Allason's head tenderly. "You never knew him, but you will mourn for the lost promise of love and companionship. Oh, he would have loved you very much, my pretty child. He would have been proud."

Tears fell from Allason's checks "H..how?"

"That I know not. All I know is that your legal guardianship is now in the hands of Charles Gosier."

"The Prince?"

"If he can still be called that."

Puzzlement crossed into Allason's features. "The spell…is about him? He did something wrong."

"He failed a test."

"Is that…still done? Lea-tian? Punitive magic?"

"Yes."

"…Oh."

Galia turned to her suddenly. "How old are you now, my dear?"

"Twelve years."

The lovely eyes closed in thought for a moment.

"You did well in school, yes?"

She'd been top of her class.

"Yes, I was…alright."

"I'm sure you are a very intelligent girl. Surely now you know you cannot go back to any school in the south, but I think you would like to continue your studies?"

Did she? She would have thought so…

"The south…is too dangerous, of course. The enemy is too powerful there. But there isn't anywhere around here, is there…schools, even temples. Everything moved farther north…they're coming here too, soon. The war is."

"Yes. But, the war will pass by this place and never see it. You yourself only found the castle when I let you see. You will be safe here."

They had been lost in the woods for hours…

"Yes, safe…"

"Safer here than outside."

"But…there's something dangerous here…isn't there?"

"Yes, Allason…but you need not fear. It is only the Prince, in his current state…"

"What did you...?"

"The only condition, if you are indeed to stay – you must be invisible."

"Invisible…"

"It is a necessary portion of the spell, you see. I must ask that you not question the proceedings too much."

"No, I…I don't…I trust your judgement, Lady Maga."

"No, I'm sorry, it was wrong of me to say. You are young, but you will understand, and you have a right to. The Prince Gosier is a traitor to the Old Faith. His actions have hurt our people, and our Mother. He is lost. But we can help him return to us, my dear, through strict exercise of spirit. It is a necessary part of his punishment that he be alone, isolated from the human species. Do you know about humans Allason?"

"...I…"

"Weakness. The terrible combination of beauty and fault, the one melded so thoroughly to the other that they have become the same tainted element. That is what you are, and what I am, and what Charles Gosier was. Beauty leads on to arrogance in those who possess it and wild envy in those who do not. The whole of the human race can become consumed by vanity – captured by the image of their own reflections they think they are all-powerful. They ignore their obligatory connection to our Earth, our Mother, and begin to think they are the world. You stand now in the palace of such a man. Sit down, my dear."

The lady and the child sank down into a black stone bench set in a sunken alcove of the marble hall, directly mirrored on the opposite side by a fantastic window.

"Look around you Allason. Sparkling riches in all directions, but not a bit of substance anywhere. This is Charles Gosier's place, through and through, for that is what he is. He refuses to take his place with the other great lords of the land and use his great affluence for our people. For years he has served only his own indulgences, but of course the Magas had no right change him forcibly, only to lecture and exercise holy patience in the hope that he would willinglyremedy his behavior. But now…now he has gone too far. He has become a threat. So I have been forced to take measures I never hoped to. Only through separation from vanity can he return to Mother; he must humble himself before her and see the error of his ways and beg her pardon. To that end, I cast a spell.

"But truly, the intent is not to punish. There should be no purposeless suffering involved here, only the necessary pain through which a strong soul grows. Undo challenges cannot be presented, for that would be a cruelty. The Price has no beauty now, but his desire for it is fiery. Jealousy, if the chance is given, will present him with a challenge he cannot overcome. The sight of the human form, a form he no longer can claim, will drive him mad with longing, and crush his soul to ash. To hear a lovely human voice will destroy him. To see pretty blue eyes…soft skin…

"My dear Allason, you are faced with a difficult choice. If you are to stay here, you will be invisible. You will be inaudible. You will have no scent, no tangibility, and no taste. Every little beautiful thing, you must give up. The reward is safety, security, a library of books with which to study, a temple in which to pray, and no threat from machine guns or bombs. The price may seem high, I know. To give up those things which let people sense you and perceive you to be beautiful may seem to be a relinquishment of your very self. But you do not need these physical traits, these illusions of the material world. You need only your spirit to survive. Here your spirit will be nurtured. Thanks to my care, this is now an environment of peace and tranquility, perfectly suited for the improvement of the divine soul. Out there…it is not the same."

It seemed that Galia had been talking since the start of the world. The words pressed into her mind, and Allason felt her head ache faintly as she considered all that had been said. A question flickered in and out of life in her mind…then vanished into the light of Galia's soft, sympathetic expression. Galia was right. She was righteousness. Allason leaned firmly against the dark stone, pressed against the alcove's little corner, resolved to stay. But she couldn't seem to stop staring at the window, at the cloudless sky, and feeling something…amiss...missing…little Miss Allason, losing her mind again. You have a troubled mind, my dear, but here you will find peace.

"You'll have to sign, here, here and here."

Galia whisked the parchment away not a second after the pen left the page, and folded it into her bodice. Then she gave little Allason a sweet smile and bestowed a kiss upon her forehead. When her lips withdrew, there no longer was a forehead. No more brown-blonde hair, no more face, no more body.

"Goodbye, my Allason." the Great Galia said, and walked from the room.

Allason's own farewell was strangled within a non-existent throat. Sunlight streamed through another largish window; the light and the silence were all-surrounding. She was now in a room – her bed room. Richly furnished with white-painted furniture, and soft white curtains which hung stark still to the floor. A bright pink floral pattern was imprinted on the duvet cover; Allason walked to the foot of the bed and stared at it. Merry little flowers, each one had blossomed to the right shape, right size. No, they had never grown, they'd been drawn, or painted, you silly child. And frozen on the silken bedcover they would never die.

Allason felt very tired, though it was not night. She crawled into the sheets until they covered her invisible head, and huddled in a ball she fell asleep.

Thus Lady Allason became the only Bird at Freer castle.

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So….review time!


	2. Charles Gosier's Prolouge

Claimer/Question: Looking back over my ideas for this story, I see that the ever despised/spoofed/attempted-to-be-made-in-some-way-original disclaimer is actually unnecessary. All the characters are mine, and the fairy tale belongs to no one, so there's really no one to relinquish ownership to. Thus, I claim, rather than disclaim. Now, in that same vain of thought, I've had a suggestion that the story would fit better in the "fairy tale" section, which makes very good sense to me. After all, it's not a direct fic of the Disney film, or the book Beauty, since Robin Mckinely put herself on the "I don't want fans to appreciate me through prose of their own" list. I didn't even know there was a fairy tale section, but it seems like a better categorical fit. However, I suspect that those who care the most about the story of Beauty and the Beast will be here rather than there. And honestly I really like the people here. I think they're cool. So I was wondering if I could get some other readers' opinions on this. To move, or not to move? Thanks for reading, now, I continue on!

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Chapter 2: Charles Gosier's Prologue

"I love no one, Galia, least of all you."

Blackness surrounded a pair of bright green eyes. Their owner sat shrouded in the dark, the haughty young face obscured by deep shadows.

"Neither I, nor any of the Maga demand your affection, your love, or your good opinion." Galia replied. "The only love that is requested of you is love for the everlasting Mother. We want you to return to us, Milord, and to Her, for your own good."

Charles Gosier laughed – the sarcastic, malicious laugh of the powerful and malcontent.

"My own good! My dear lady, you know not of what you speak. My life revolves around my good; my every action is based on it. I _know_ what is in my interest, Maga, and this is not it."

"No, you would not think so. And of course you are the repository of all knowledge, at the ripe old age of sixteen years."

"Just as you were, at the age of seventeen. What was it, the youngest Magamistress in history? Or only the last century? But you needn't fret; I'm only your better by a year."

"I pity you, Charles. Your vision," she sighed, " is so clouded with pride."

"_Charles_? My lady, you must use titles when addressing your superiors. Now, what were you saying about pride?"

"Ah yes, you _are_ mature."

Gosier leaned forward, letting the window's light bathe his face in red illumination, and flashed a white-toothed smile at the increasingly annoyed Mistress of Magic.

It was a very handsome face, full of manly strength despite his lacking years. His sharp, firm features seemed made for scornful laughter; a wry mouth, and eyes that gleamed with dark humor beneath angled brows. The long hair that framed his face might have lent an feminine air to someone else, but there was no trace of a dandy in him. He was hard and cruel.

"I fancy I am. I control this province with more skill than the Maga Council runs the country, and I believe that were our positions reversed and I presided over all the lands, my rule would be far superior to theirs. Is this not an accomplishment, for one so young?"

"Your opinions of your own skills hardly constitute accomplishments, and what's more they verge on treason. Were I you, I would hold my tongue."

"Ah. What I pity, then, that you are not."

Galia uttered the softest of groans. "Be serious, Gosier, for a moment at least, while your soul is in discussion."

"My soul!" he scoffed, as if the Maga had just invented the term. "Was _that_ what you were on about? You see my impression was that a pompous twit was whining to me about the ruin of her ever-so-perfect plans."

"The Council's plans," she corrected.

"No," Charles assured her, "they were yours. I could tell because they were so damned stupid. How you got the Council to stamp their good name on them is beyond me."

"Charles," she said sweetly, "We aren't discussing plans, or the Council, we're discussing you. Do you have no interest in morality, spirit, salvation?"

"Not particularly."

"Vulgar. Absolutely barbaric…"

"I think I've had enough of this nonsense for the moment, Galia. You've been entertaining, but you're going to leave now."

Galia stared him in the eyes. "Do you think you can evict me?"

"I do." He replied without a second's hesitation. "I am the Prince here Galia, and while you may have the spiritual authority to spout sugar coated morality sermons at whoever you choose, only I control what goes on in these lands. That includes the war, the Maga, and you."

A silence hovered momentarily in the darkness, and then it was Galia's turn to laugh. She threw back her head and dissolved into a tinkling chorus of mirth, like the music of chiming bells. Gosier looked at her as though she were mad.

"You…you think you can control _me_? A spoiled, adolescent monarch with as much knowledge of Magic as a woodland creature – and, I need hardly add, manners to match –and he will order a Magamistress here and there? Oh, I anticipated the selfishness, the crazed materialism, even the belligerence! But this arrogance, pretentiousness! It's the most incredible thing I've ever witnessed! You truly believe it too, don't you? You probably think you can stop time, or hold a beam of light in your hand!" She clutched her side and trembled with hysterics.

Gosier eyed her warily, put off by the strange outburst. "No, my lady," he replied, "but I can hold you."

The laughter ceased.

"And how," said Galia coldly, "do you propose to do that?"

"With a few hundred soldiers, each pointing a finely crafted firearm at that glowing head of yours."

A grin spread slowly across Galia's face.

"Call for your army Charles," she dared him. He glared in silence. "Call for your hundred soldiers, call for a thousand! Ten-thousand! Call for your palace guards, Charles. And when that fails, call your servants! Do you know what you'll see? Nothing! And the most you will hear…is a slight rustling against the confinement of metal bars."

True anger and the slightest hint of fear made their way into Gosier's eyes.

"What have you done?"

"What was necessary."

"What.Have.You. Done?"

"Sit down Charles. Your men are safe." Galia stood and placed her marble-white hand upon Gosier's forehead, pushing him down into his chair. "But you aren't much without them, are you?"

"Don't touch me…Maga witch…" came the struggling words from Gosier's mouth, but he found he could not raise his hand to her. In response, Galia, lightly stroked his cheek.

"My poor Prince," she mused. "I did give him every chance I could, didn't I? And now he must be punished…"

Panic surged within the Prince's immobilized form. Galia was pensive.

"What to do, what to do? How ever will you learn, my dear? How can your demon pride be defeated? Perhaps, if you could see yourself the way others do…the way you truly are. Crude, violent…beastly…"

"Transformations are illegal…" it took all of Gosier's strength to mutter.

"Not if you change the laws."

Silence.

"Yes….yes…that will do _very_ well indeed…"

The Maga removed a small bottle from beneath the layers of her bright white cloak, as the motionless Prince struggled hopelessly to break away.

"You should learn from this, Charles." She said, as she held the little glass bottle up to the light."Learn to be holy, learn to love, and learn that neither you, nor any other vulgar human can _ever_ challenge the Gods."

Galia emptied the bottle's contents into her mouth. She then knelt down, and engulfed Charles Gosier's lips with her own.

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And thus ends the strange chapters. The next will indeed be coherent and less creepifying than this one might have been. (Vivian's going to be like "0.o" to me. Rebecca too, actually...). And now I get to have fun answering reviews:

BelleEve: Firstly, I'm glad you've been updating so much lately! I really enjoy reading your stories. As for the dreaded exposition, I will be providing more background in the next chapter, hopefully in a manner that isn't too conspicuous.

River chan 42: Ah, my dear sister. I can always count on her to criticize me online, when if she wanted to she could tell me to my face, being in the same house and all. But alas, the joke is now on her, for she has misspelled spelling (there's only one "i') in her criticism of mine. Seriously though, please tell me if I have odd little mistakes, because I can't stand them.

Rozalia, Trudirose, Lotte Rose 37, Rozalia, and epalladino: Thanks to all you guys for reading, and for positive comments, which are actually my favorite kind. Anyone who reads any of my works is automatically amazing in my eyes. I haven't tried creative writing for years, and I appreciate all the support.


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